


When Correctly Viewed, Everything Is Lewd

by illwynd



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Caught in the Act, F/M, M/M, Mommy Kink, Public Display of Affection, Spanking, Wall Sex, five-plus-one fic, implied pegging, mythological crossdressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-23
Updated: 2012-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-29 23:57:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illwynd/pseuds/illwynd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Thor and Loki caught their parents doing kinky things and one time their parents caught them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Correctly Viewed, Everything Is Lewd

**Author's Note:**

> Written to fill a prompt (http://norsekink.livejournal.com/6420.html?thread=12909076#t12909076) at the Norsekink comm.

I.

Their parents were more careful when they were younger. Thor spent his first ten years or so of life unable to believe that his mother and father had ever shared more than a chaste and courtly peck on the lips, even though Loki had raised his eyebrows at him when he said so. He still suspects Loki _knew_ (though he denied it later, shaking his head and pointedly not laughing) what they would see when they burst into the room in which Frigga tended to do her weaving, intent on asking whether they could _please_ keep the lizard they’d found in the garden as a pet. Thor was sure he’d never get over the sight: his mother and father had been sitting together amidst a tangle of threads and looms and spindles, and they’d been leaning close to each other and kissing. With tongues.

“I won’t ever do that!” Thor had said later, grimacing at the memory.

“Me neither,” his little brother had said dutifully, wrapping his fingers together with Thor’s to seal the agreement.

 

II.

Thor was old enough to think himself already quite wise in the ways of the world when he found out that his father might still have an advantage over him in the area of scandalous behavior. With ale that he still wasn’t quite used to drinking clouding his head and feeling wholly ambitious and boisterous, he had wandered away from the nightly post-feast quaffing and toward the throne room, with Loki at his side. But then he heard it—a slap followed by the sound of a woman crying out in pain—and he rushed forward in instant, boiling indignation. Who, he wanted to know, would dare to abuse another in that place and so defile the seat of Asgard’s power? Loki’s grip on his belt was the only thing holding him back, and after Loki held a finger to his lips and the gesture made it through Thor’s addled brain, they together peeked around the column.

Well.

He hadn’t thought he would ever see his mother sprawled across Odin’s knee as he sat on the throne. As she began to giggle and his father raised his hand for another playful smack, Thor backed away. Somehow they escaped without being noticed, and when they made it back to his chambers Loki stayed for a while as Thor pressed his hands to his eyes and paced across the floor and back.

“On the throne?” he grumbled, still in disbelief.

Loki laughed.

 

III.

Loki was quite a bit older than that when he discovered that his mother was a lech. He knew, of course, that she was one of the few who had fully supported him when he showed a talent for magic, and her acceptance had outweighed countless whispers of _seiðmaðr_ behind his back. He also knew that she had slapped Thor’s hand, metaphorically, when he’d guffawed over Lady Sif’s warriorly ambitions. So Loki shouldn’t have been surprised at all when, upon asking to borrow a bit of a rare herb that he knew his mother kept a supply of, he opened her drawer to see an… object. It seemed made of glass, delicately twisted and swirled with lovely shades of blue and lavender. The tip was smooth and bulbous. It was about as long as Loki’s hand. And the base... flared out and was encased in the leather of something like a broad belt attached to a woman’s underclothes.

“Oh,” Frigga murmured as he stared. “I forgot I left that there.”

“You and father…?” Loki began before he cut himself off. No. He did not want to imagine his mother wearing such a thing. Or his father enjoying her doing so.

Frigga, however, ignored his discomfort and gave him a regal smile. “Sometimes,” she said mildly, “it is good to be Queen.”

Loki felt a lot better about the whole conversation later, comforted by the shade of red Thor turned when he told him.

 

IV.

By this point in their lives, Thor really should have known to be more careful. But under the circumstances, perhaps it was understandable. With Mjolnir stolen and fury running hot in his veins—and a hearty dose of panic along with it—he could think of little else. Even Loki following fast on his heels could not turn him aside from his course.

But unfortunately, he had the poor timing to cross his parent’s doorway just as the two were stretched out on their bed and clearly absorbed in each other. It would be difficult to forget the things he saw.

His father’s bare behind.

The swell of his mother’s breast, pale and still quite shapely, and he did _not_ want to have such knowledge of his mother.

His father’s _mouth_ on the swell of his mother’s breast, suckling like a babe.

His father’s lustful murmur… calling her “Mother.”

That part would have to be scoured from his brain by force.

“I think they are otherwise engaged, brother,” Loki said quietly beside him. “You and I will have to solve this problem ourselves. And I think I have an idea…”

Thor only went along with his plan because the ridiculousness of it would help him to forget what he’d seen. It was not at all because of the way Loki smirked as he adjusted Freya’s dress on Thor’s body—perhaps enjoying too much the chance to run his hands along Thor’s sides and down to curl briefly around his hip.

“You make a beautiful maiden,” Loki teased, making to kiss his hand.

Thor rolled his eyes. “Hammer,” he insisted, to which Loki could only grin and nod in acquiescence.

 

V.

Anything that happened at the Midwinter celebration was, by common agreement, forgiven and forgotten by dawn—oftentimes quite literally forgotten.

Over the course of the night, Loki had seen declarations of love between a couple long estranged, a fistfight that left bloodied lips and bruised knuckles between a pair of lifelong friends, a game of cards that ended in actual tears, a round of flyting that grew to encompass half the room… and he’d done his best to ignore it when Frigga, holding high a glass of golden mead, had decided to sit in Odin’s lap, leaning back against his chest and whispering into his ear things that made him smile broadly and wrap his hands around her waist, almost but not quite indecently low.

“Don’t look like that,” Thor had rumbled from just over his shoulder.

“Like what?” Loki said, absently peering down at the dregs in the bottom of his cup.

“Our parents are allowed to be affectionate. As you used to have to tell me, they were partners before they were ever our mother and father.”

Loki shook his head and laughed, casting aside the shadow that had come across his mood. “Of course they are allowed. Anyway, what all want to know is how long it will be until you have some pretty queen on your knee to grope during formal functions.”

Generally this would have brought blush and bluster to Thor’s face. That night it seemed he had already drunk enough that he merely wrapped Loki in a sloppy embrace from behind. “What pretty queen could I want?”

Later, as the more sober of the two of them, with his brother draped across his shoulders making it difficult to keep them both upright and moving forward, Loki gritted his teeth. Thor was burbling something incomprehensible into his ear and pawing at his chest.

“What?” he finally asked in frustration.

“I’d have you on my knee,” Thor mumbled against his neck.

Loki eyed him dubiously. “I think you’ve had plenty to drink tonight.”

Thor made a disappointed sound, and then a noise that seemed suspiciously like a snore.

 

+1

During the next Midwinter celebration, Frigga could not fail to notice that her sons left early, together, well before either was drunk enough to need to seek his bed.

She’d had her suspicions for a while, and the months during which the two had avoided each other followed by both trying their best to pretend that nothing was different at all between them, not even a bit, had practically confirmed them.

When she and Odin excused themselves a while later, walking arm in arm toward their own chambers, somehow she almost expected what happened.

“Oh dear,” she said in a whisper, reaching out to cover Odin’s good eye with her hand in an effort to protect her husband’s delicate sensibilities. “I think you might not want to look.”

Her sons hadn’t even made it to either of their chambers; they leaned against the wall in a fevered knot of limbs and groans, and although the red drape of Thor’s cloak kept things technically decent, they moved together in a way that left no room for doubt.

Frigga and Odin tiptoed past and left the brothers to their forbidden pleasures.

They could hardly complain, after all.

-end-


End file.
